


Excessive Overtime

by Dusty_Forgotten



Series: Mike Schmidt is Done with Your Shit [7]
Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Alzheimer's Disease, Disturbing Themes, Gen, Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-31 09:28:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3972835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dusty_Forgotten/pseuds/Dusty_Forgotten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Mike Schmidt's mom is the one he's going to blame.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Excessive Overtime

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IspeltEclipsewrong](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IspeltEclipsewrong/gifts).



> This is significantly longer than previous installments. There's another coming shortly.

“It’s just really hard, you know? It’s just me and my mom, and I’m the only one supporting her. With this shitty job, it doesn’t leave much time or money for myself. Tom doesn’t call. My only friends used to work for Fazbear’s for fuck’s sake, but I don’t get to talk to Fritz much since he burned down that Chuck E. Cheese and got sent back to the psych ward. Now I spend all my time at work, or playing Doom. Maybe I spend so much time at Freddy’s because, in a way, they’re my only friends. Sure, they try to kill me on a nightly basis, but that’s just what bros do. Honestly, all I’m living for is this job, so if the job kills me, I’m not missing much, right?”

You shake your head. “I don’t really have anyone to talk to since Dr. Fischbach died- which is your fault!” You glare at Freddy, who only turns to you slightly. “Or, Golden you, but I’m still blaming you! Anyway,” you say, turning back to Foxy, “thanks for listening.” He tries to screech, but his mouth’s rubber-banded shut at the moment. “Just a minute, just a minute, let me finish...” You tighten up the screw on his jaw as well as you can, push the foam cover back on, and pull off the rubber bands, hopping back. Foxy screams, and you cross your arms, smiling. Foxy’s jaw shuts for the first time in a long time, then opens again, testing it out. “See? Good as new.”

You reach into your back pocket, pulling out your to-do list, and check off “ _Tighten Foxy’s jaw_ ”. Next on the list is “ ** _Clean bathrooms_** ” gone over a few times. You look at your watch. “Oh, _darn_ , too late for that. Better head back to the office.” You wave at the animatronics. “See you all in a little bit!”

On your way back, you hear the front door jiggle. “We’re closed!” You yell, tucking the list back into your pocket. Someone knocks. Well, that’s never happened before. You head over, and unlock it to tell whoever to fuck right off, only getting as far as “Hey, we’re closed, go away befo-” before your thought process changes. “... _Mom?_ ”

“Oh, hello Mikey!”

“Mom, what are you doing here?”

“Well, um, you, you left your coffee.” She holds up the to-go mug, and you smile, taking it.

“Thanks, mom, but you really shouldn’t be out this late. My shift’s about to start, I’ve gotta go. Do you know the way home?”

“Yes, of course I do. I’ll be fine, Mikey. Have a good day!”

“Night.” you correct, and farewell in the same word.

You watch her hobble back to the sedan before closing the door, and jogging back to your office. You’re glad you got your coffee; Fridays need your full focus.

It’s early enough in the night you’re not worried about power yet (you damn well know you should always be worried; maybe the coffee hasn’t kicked in yet) and are flipping around to see where everyone’s situated. Freddy hasn’t even left the show stage yet, you’re pretty sure that’s Chica in the kitchen, and Bonnie-... Bonnie isn’t important, because Bonnie isn’t in the dining room. Someone else is. A white puff on a figure less than five feet.

Your mother.

Oh God, no.

You flip down the left hallway to make sure Bonnie isn’t waiting, and drop the tablet, lunging out the door.

Bonnie screams when you run straight into her. You slam the door shut, and bolt out the right instead. “Mom!” you yell when you reach the dining room, and immediately regret it when the curtain rustles. Freddy’s still back there.

“Mikey? I’m sorry, I-I got lost-”

“We’ll talk about it later, come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“I’ll explain later, come on!” you promise, hurrying her to the right. Bonnie will be coming from the left soon. You head for the right hallway, creep quietly along.

“Mike, what’s that noise? Are you hungry?”

You shush her, but listen. Groaning. It’s coming from the office. You redirect to the left, cut through the kitchen because Freddy’s gotta be in the dining room by now. It’s dark, since the camera light’s broken; you’ve gotta put that on your list. You keep a hand on your mom’s shoulder, other feeling for the counters. “Mike, what’s going on?”

“Shh...” Shuffling forward, you lose touch with the cart, and head for the counter, which ends by the dining area door.

“Please, I’m scared. What’s going on?”

“Honestly,” you whisper, “I don’t know.”

She trips on a pot one of the animatronics threw around tonight. Chica squawks from the east hall, and grab your mom by the arm, hurrying toward the door. Freddy’s not in the dining room, but Bonnie is- thankfully, on the far side right now. You make a call, and practically drag your mother towards the restrooms.

“Mikey, what ar-”

You clamp a hand over her mouth, tucked in the corner between the doorway and men’s room. You turn her towards you, and hold a finger to your lips. She nods. She looks too scared and confused to argue right now. Slowly, you pull your hand away, put both on her shoulders, and move slowly into the men’s room. You can hear Freddy in women’s.

You back into the shadow, and pull your mother against your chest. Freddy laughs, deep and menacing, as he walks into the dining area. You let out a breath, and stop smothering your mother.

“Look,” you whisper, “I don’t know exactly what’s going on here, but I’m gonna get you home safe. You’ve just gotta trust me. Okay?”

You can’t really see her eyes when you’re this far out of the camera’s light. “Of course I trust you, Tom.”

She can’t see your face, so you don’t hide the frown. “Stay close.” you say, and wrap an arm around her.

You peek out the doorway. The glare from the security camera makes it hard to see into the dining area, but Bonnie’s not in her usual spot close to the restrooms, and the office door is closed, so she’ll be making the rounds in here eventually. The office is the safest place here. You creep slowly into the dining area, and listen. Chica’s still in the kitchen, and you spy Freddy down the east hall. Backstage has a door that locks- not very well, but it should last long enough for Freddy and Chica to move along. “Okay. We need to move fast.” You warn, and jog across.

Bonnie comes from the west hall. The camera’s panning this way; you don’t have time to get to Backstage before she sees you. There’s an out of order sign in front of Pirate Cove. You make a call, and dart behind the curtain. Hopefully Bonnie settles at the other end of the room before Foxy gets back.

She doesn’t.

You curl your mom into your chest, and squint your eyes shut as you hear Foxy sprint back this way. Maybe tonight’s your night.

The curtains swishes open. Against your better judgement, you open your eyes.

Foxy’s staring at you. His eyepatch flips up. Stares. His jaw whirs open. Then shut. He steps inside, and starts singing. You creep out behind the curtain, mom pressed against you the whole time, and slide against the wall to Backstage. You shut the door behind you, and breathe a sigh of relief, flicking on the lights. You freeze.

“...Tom?” Your mom asks, still flush against you.

“You, uh... You don’t want to see this.”

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Oh, just... some kid puked.”

Phone Guy’s starting to rot.

“Is that what that smell is? I’ve had two kids, Tom, I’ve seen plenty of vomit in my day.”

“Yeah, but there’s no reason you have to.” You reach over, and turn off the lights. They might be able to see it from under the door, anyway. “Let’s just... regroup, here.”

You scratch your neck, and press your ear to the door. “Tom, tell me. What’s going on?”

“Would you shut up!?” you snap. You can hear Bonnie, but can’t tell if she’s coming this way. This lock won’t hold up against a robot that can stuff a grown man into a suit filled with metal.

“Tom!”

“I’m not-!” You almost correct her, but then realize there is a small possibility she will remember this. Your brother never calls anyway; so what if she’s mad at him? “I don’t have time for this. You don’t even know where you are, stop pretending you know who I am. Shut up, and do as I say, and I’ll get you out. Okay!?”

You can’t see her face, it’s fucking dark in here. She sniffs. “Fuck...” you murmur. She’s crying.

“I-I’m sorry, I...”

“Look, mom-”

“No, let me finish. I-I know it must be hard, taking care of me, I know, I just...”

“Mom, you can’t help it. It’s okay.”

“But it, it’s not okay! I-I don’t know what’s going on in your life, and I don’t know what kind of trouble you’re in, a-and, I’m scared, because we’re being chased, and I don’t even know by who!”

“Mom, it’s okay...”

“No it’s not!”

“Yes it is.” You flip the light switch, and put a hand on her shoulder. “Look, it... It’s just company bonding. We uh, we’re playing paintball, and I don’t want anyone to get you confused and ruin your blouse.”

“Oh... Really?”

“Yeah, sure, if that works.”

“Oh. Oh, silly me. Of course you’re not in any trouble, you’re a good boy.”

“‘Course I am.” you say, looking behind her at the decomposing corpse of your boss. “Let’s just get you back to the office- I mean... base.”

“O-okay, Tom. I-I don’t know where it is...”

“Just follow me.” you say, and turn off the lights, cracking the door. Chica’s back on the show stage, and you don’t see Bonnie, so she’s gotta be down the west hallway. That door’s closed, anyway. Freddy’s laughing, and it’s getting louder, so you’re pretty sure he’s coming out of the office, up the hallway... There he is, headed for the bathrooms. “We’re gonna make a run for it.”

“O-okay.”

You grab her by the arm, wait for Freddy to disappear around the corner, and dash between tables, down the east hall. Chica screams when she spots you, but you can outrun anyone who’s not Foxy. You make it to the office, and slam the door button behind you. She knocks on the window, and open both the doors after she leaves. You scroll through the cameras quickly: Pirate Cove’s closed, Freddy’s glaring into the east hall camera, and Bonnie is tearing up Backstage looking for you. You don’t know where Chica is, but she’s not at the door, so it doesn’t matter.

“Tom?”

“Yeah, mom?”

“I-I’m really tired.”

“It’s four-thirty in the morning, of course you are.” You look up from the cameras, and stand. “Here, you can have my chair.”

“Oh, n-no-”

“Don’t worry, I sit on my ass enough as it is.”

“O-okay...”

She’s out by five.

All that time with the door shut really drained your power, but the camera feed wasn’t even on, and so long as you don’t turn on your desk fan or light- and Foxy decided to only hit once tonight- you should be fine.

You’re yawning by six (your coffee cold on your desk) and you have to carry your mom to the car. You’re glad the front doors open out so you don’t have to put her down, but come to think, all of this could have been avoided if you’d just remembered to lock them after she left.

You cannot be held responsible for things you do without coffee.


End file.
